Forth Into A New Golden Age
by Juliana Brandagamba
Summary: [ONESHOT] Gwen's induction as sole ruler of Camelot following the tragedy at Camlann is followed by an announcement that will change history.
The induction of Queen Guinevere, now the sole and absolute ruler of Albion, was performed with much pomp and ceremony, for she was much admired throughout the entire kingdom, and welcomed as their queen with open arms. When Arthur had been crowned as King, there had come swathes of people to see the coronation. Now was no different, except that the mood was naturally rather lower.

The Great Hall was packed to the rafters: the nobles and the knights and the folk of the castle were placed first, at the front, and the rest of the audience crowded in after them, and spilled out into the corridors, hoping to catch a glimpse of their Queen. And she honoured this wish by parading not directly to the Great Hall, but among her people, walking slowly, offering handshakes and smiles and the occasional kind word to those subjects who bowed before her as she came by them. At last she reached the hall, followed by those servants who held her skirts, and came to the front, where she was seated upon a throne in the exact centre of the room (the distance had been carefully measured out by three of the castle servants and a good deal of string), and turned then to Sir Leon, one of the revered heroes of Camlann, who gave her a small smile, perhaps absent of its usual humour, awaiting his signal.

The hall fell absolutely silent. Guinevere looked upon her subjects, and saw that though the sea of red cloaks, the splendour of rich cloth, the crowd of upturned faces was little different to those that had greeted her on her coronation, the expressions upon people's faces were much changed. They loved her, of course, and were immensely happy that she would continue to rule over them; but the shock of Camlann had not yet worn off – never would, perhaps. Still, it was best to be happy for this one day, to celebrate at least something even in the lingering darkness.

Guinevere waited a moment more. She sought out one face in particular. He was in the front row, his eyes lowered: these days he scarcely dared meet anyone's gaze, for fear of finding something in it that would trigger some memory or some raw emotion. He of all the people of Albion had suffered the most... Dear Merlin.

Yet at length he looked up, and surprised Gwen by giving her the biggest smile he could manage; Gwen smiled back, confidently but curiously, and it was at that moment that she nodded towards Leon, though her eyes did not leave Merlin.

'The King is dead,' Leon pronounced, his clear voice echoing across the hall. This statement was met with a dark sort of silence that seemed to last far longer than the half-second he left before saying: 'Long live the Queen!'

And it was Merlin, Gwen was sure of it, who first echoed this cry, this cry that then tumbled like rolling thunder across the gathered crowd.

It might have gone on forever. Certainly the people showed no signs of stopping their repetition of this mantra; they wished it to be true, they wished the Queen to live a long while, forever, even. And they could but hope that fervently repeating it would increase the chances of this. Yet at last the Queen put up her slender hand, and with it commanded a silence that was so sudden that it seemed deafening.

She stood, and looked out over her people; then she said: 'I am honoured to serve as your Queen, and I will do my utmost to keep the peace in Albion, and to continue as best I can the golden reign of our glorious King Arthur.'

A brief but respectful silence followed these words.

'It is, I believe, a mark of strength when a ruler marks the first day of his or her reign with a great speech, or some memorable deed. Therefore I must announce something that will surprise some, please others, perhaps dismay others still: but it is something that must be announced, it is something that must come into force, if we are to keep the peace, and if we are to keep Albion in high esteem as a fair and just kingdom.

'Until now, our laws have for the most part been fair and just, and the kingdom ruled with a wisdom far ahead of any one of our rivals, indeed our allies. Yet there is one thing that, for more reasons than one, was neglected.

'I must, then, first make a sincere and heartfelt apology to all those who have been persecuted for something they were born with, and over which they have only limited control: I refer, of course, to those people possessing some degree of magic.'

Now the silence was louder than ever. Queen Guinevere's intentions had been announced only to a select few, and those not in the know reacted in various fashions, but most of which involved staring and being unable to speak. Those possessing magic!... why did she apologise to them? Was not magic evil, and those who did it worthy of punishment? – this was the terrible thought of a good many. But a good many more thought that this apology had been long overdue – it should have been spoken by Uther – and wondered to what end the Queen now worked.

'I believe I speak for the majority when I say that Albion has been unreasonably harsh on those possessing magic, whether or not they used it. Dark magic is, of course, an evil that should be uprooted, and is unforgiveable. But do we punish all men because some commit crimes? No! Then why should be persecute all magic-users because a few of them stray?

'You must believe me when I say that I speak directly from the heart in proclaiming: I, Queen Guinevere, hereby apologise for the wrongs that have been done to those possessing magic, and I hope that my next announcement will, if it cannot repair the damage done, at least help to build a better future.

'I shall delay it no more: scribes, chroniclers, bards, inscribe this as the day when the ban on the use of magic in Albion was lifted!'

A shocked, astonished silence met these words, followed by a rippling murmur that rose into a loud chattering, a chattering that suddenly exploded into cheers.

They came from every corner: every mouth was opened, yelling their overwhelming support of this motion; hands were raised, waving, holding those of neighbours, then clapping; the noise was immense; the room was filled. Queen Guinevere had intended to cement her reputation as a strong ruler. She had done one better: she had completely changed history. This decision had been a long time coming, of course, but it had been widely believed that it would never come. Well, it was better late than never.

Gwen found herself beaming from ear to ear: she had expected shock, but she had not expected at all such a magnificent response. Never had such exhilaration been seen in Camelot. She had thought that it would never be again, not after Camlann. But it was better to move on than to stay stuck in a dark and gloomy state of emotional turmoil, and it delighted her beyond compare to see her subjects united in such unequivocal happiness at her decision. The knights were all clapping, the subjects were still cheering and whistling, and, at the front of the crowd, there stood a changed young man with tears streaming down his cheeks, unable to cheer or to clap, just standing there and revelling in the unrivalled feelings that must have been coursing through him at that time.

It took perhaps half an hour for things to die down – and that is no exaggeration, for nobody quite knew when to stop, and nobody truly wanted to stop. But Guinevere had one more proclamation to make before sundown, which was nearing rather, and so called for silence once more.

'This decision will, of course, bring with it a good deal of discussions and changes, and these will be dealt with in the coming days and weeks, so that the change can be implemented as well as it can be. There is one thing that I should like to do straight away, however, and that is to appoint a Court Magician.'

There fell absolute silence then. Confusion and curiosity now reigned. What did she mean by a Court Magician? _Who_ did she mean?...

The Queen's eyes fell on Merlin. He met her gaze, and then blinked, confused. She hadn't told him about this part. What was she talking about?

'I hereby give this position to Merlin, whom I trust to the ends of the earth, and who I know will serve as the greatest Court Magician ever seen.'

The cheering was great, the clapping greater; Merlin stepped forwards at Gwen's insistence, and stood beside her, blushing furiously, but happier than he had been in a long while. Indeed, in just one afternoon, Gwen had done a damned good job of turning his fortune and that of Camelot entirely around: a thing he had not thought remotely possible.

And he took the Queen's hand in both of his, and brought it to his lips, and bowed before her; and the only words that he could spill from his trembling lips were: 'Gwen, thank you. Thank you for... for, well, for everything.'

Perhaps they stood and remembered for a moment – reminisced on times that seemed so long ago now. A long time ago now, it seemed, Merlin had offered an awkward handshake through the armhole of a wooden pillory to a pretty maid with a basket and a tattered yellow dress. Now the Court Magician kissed the hand of his Queen: but he had lost little of his bumbling awkwardness, and nothing of that charming smile: and though tragedy had struck them both, it had somehow brought them even closer, so that far from being a monarch and her subject, they were greater friends even than before.

Tragedy had struck them both, but they needed to move on: and they would do so together, in this world that seemed a far cry from the times of persecution, and from the dark days of the war with Morgana. Camelot was a new place; Gwen and Merlin were in many ways different people. But they would go forth confidently, and lead Camelot into a new Golden Age, each at the other's side. Such was their friendship. And seeing this, the people of Albion were greatly pleased, and knew that things were, against all odds, looking very much up already.


End file.
